monocarpy
by Angel Commando
Summary: . . . Why do you falter? It's only a human. You. . . feel pity? Nonsense. To flower and to die, that is her destiny. Flowerfell!AU. Frisk falls into the Underground and she must navigate the winding, bloody path all the way to the very end.
1. germination: the fall

**monocarpy**

 **Rating:** T+ (I'll try to keep it toned down).

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own about. . . 99.99% of this.

 **Summary** : The Seventh Child has fallen. With her soul, the barrier can be broken, and all of monsterkind can wage the Great War to kill humans once and for all. The humans, who have taken everything from monsters, will be judged and punished for their crimes.

It's not long now.

You should be smiling, too. Aren't you excited? Aren't you happy?

You're going to be free.

. . . Why do you falter? It's only a human.

You. . . feel pity?

Nonsense.

To flower and to die, that is her destiny.

 **Warnings:** Angst, blood, death, cursing. . . all that good stuff will come later.

It's tame for now, but it won't be later.

 **Author's Notes:** Hello everyone, and welcome to my version of Flowerfell.

There will be some changed aspects regarding the Underfell and Flowerfell 'verses, but I'll address those as I move through the fic. Like most of us, I read SociopathicAngel's fic, "Overgrowth" some time ago, and it never left me alone. It was such a beautifully written fic, I loved it.

After doodling a piece of art the other night. . . I thought, "Gee, Angel, you've always wanted to write an Undertale fanfic. You love Flowerfell. Why not give it a shot?"

And this, this was born!

It is going to be cross-posted to AO3 under my moniker, "PatientZero." Not too much to say - both versions will practically be the same. If the need calls for it, I may axe bits and pieces that I feel will get me in trouble here. I'll do my best to keep myself from going overboard, though.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

germination: prologue

* * *

Darkness.

She shifted, twisting, trying to find up from down, left from right. Her efforts were rewarded only with a sensation: _thump-thump_. At that, she paused.

 _Thump-thump._

It was strong. It made her warm.

 _Thump-thump_.

She settled down, floating in a shapeless, weightless void, feeling the pulse. She was alive. She had no idea where she was, but she was _alive_.

 _Thump-thump_.

. . . But. . . how had she gotten there? In the darkness, she concentrated. Her mind felt like tar, filled with a sticky substance that coated everything and made it hard to reach in, to pull free the memories from the muck. What was this? She. . . She remembered. . . .

 _T-thump-thump._

(- _so fast. So, so fast. She had to go faster. Her bare feet hit the jagged, coarse ground of the trail. Angry voices and shouts rang out behind her. Up ahead, there was something_ -)

Wait.

Wait, she didn't want to remember this.

 _Thump-thump-thump._

She tried to backpedal, tried to free herself of the memory, but the more she pushed against it, the more it enveloped her. She cried out in frustration and fear, bodily trying to shove it away from herself.

(- _which way? Which way? She didn't know! But she had to find a way out! A large, strong hand wrapped around her wrist, and she cried out, her tiny voice fragile and weak in the cool air_ -)

 _Thumpthumpthump._

 _Stop!_ She begged, _stop it, please!_

( _"-have run. Now look. Look what you've done. You've made this so much harder on yourself. If only you'd just listened. But you're so rebellious, aren't you? What were you thinking? That you could just-_ ")

The sinister voice was leaning in, coming closer and closer.

 _Thumpthumpthumpthump._

 _"NO!_ " She cried, finding her voice.

The memory vanished in a heartbeat, taking the pain, the fear, the _everything_. She was left to the sound of her own ragged breathing and the slowly-calming pulse. She was safe. She was fine. Nobody was going to hurt her. She kept repeating those words like a mantra in her mind, and somehow, in the darkness, she found herself. She squeezed her knees close to her chest and pressed her forehead against them, curling up into a protective ball. She was safe. She was fine. Nobody was going to hurt her.

 _Thump-thump._

"When will I wake up?" She whispered. "I don't want to be asleep anymore." She feared the memories would come back again, trap her in their clutches.

Around her, the darkness shivered. Curious, and filled with a slight tinge of trepidation, she uncurled herself, trying to peer into the black, but she saw nothing.

"Hello?" She called.

Gravity was her answer.

She screamed as she realized she'd found up from down, and _down_ was where she was falling. The wind roared in her ears, drowning out everything. But as she fell, her stomach falling out from underneath her, she saw flashes. Flashes o flight and images that made no sense to her. They were of people and places that weren't now. Another flash, and despite her fear, she paused.

Was. . . Was that. . .

A _human?_

A speck of yellow was rapidly coming up to meet her. When had she twisted down to face the ground? She didn't remember. Fear flooded through her when she realized the yellow was the ground. And she was falling at top speed to meet it. She grit her teeth, and shoved her arms as best as she could in front of herself to protect her. She wrenched her eyes shut.

And then everything went black as her head snapped forward, striking the ground.

Pain raced through her body. But she laid there, her breaths raspy in her ears, her blood pounding in her veins. Slowly, ever so slowly, her brain came back online, and she wriggled her fingers. Her toes. She winced and gasped as a fresh wave of pain washed through her, but. . .

She was alive.

She used her hands to push herself up, and she blinked, her surroundings slowly coming into focus.

Flowers. She was on a bed of. . .

 _Yellow zinnias?_

Yeah. Just like the ones that grew outside of her house. Very few places in her hometown grew yellow zinnias. But they were a special flower. A very special flower with a very-

She shut that down. She didn't want to think about it. It took her a while, but she pushed herself up to her feet. She looked around, finding herself right in the middle of a beautiful, very thick patch, of golden zinnias. She craned her neck back, where a dappled sunlight fell through a hole. Far, far, far up. The light was far away, but it was strong. So strong, she had to shield her eyes with one of her hands.

"I've fallen." She murmured to herself. She dropped her hand, closed her eyes.

"I've fallen down Mt. Ebott."

Her only answer was a gentle wind that blew, carrying the pleasant scent of the zinnias.

She shuddered, dropping her head and hanging it. For a while, she stayed like that, standing in a field of yellow zinnias, in one of many patches of golden sunlight shining down through a hole on Mt. Ebott. Taking another steadying breath, she lifted her head. This wasn't the only hole. There were others. After doing a quick count, a heavy weight settled on her heart, and her stomach twisted into knots.

She counted again.

And then one more time, just to make sure.

"I've fallen down Mt. Ebott." She said, her voice thick. Tears started to build in her eyes. "I'm the Seventh Child."

When the tears started rolling down her cheeks, she was glad she was alone.

That meant there was nobody around to hear her sobs.


	2. germination: mom

**monocarpy**

 **Rating:** T+ (I'll try to keep it toned down).

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own about. . . 99.99% of this.

 **Summary** : The Seventh Child has fallen. With her soul, the barrier can be broken, and all of monsterkind can wage the Great War to kill humans once and for all. The humans, who have taken everything from monsters, will be judged and punished for their crimes.

It's not long now.

You should be smiling, too. Aren't you excited? Aren't you happy?

You're going to be free.

. . . Why do you falter? It's only a human.

You. . . feel pity?

Nonsense.

To flower and to die, that is her destiny.

 **Warnings:** Angst, blood, death, cursing. . . all that good stuff will come later.

It's tame for now, but it won't be later.

 **Author's Notes:** Hey all! Sorry it's been so long. I've got another monster of a fic I'm trying to complete besides this one. This one I plan to be much smaller. . . I say that, but this always happens:

me: oh the fic chapters will be 1 - 5k in length

*writes chapter*

me: oh fuck that was 8-11k words whoops

urgh. Anyway! It's winter vacation for me, so I'm hoping to finish up the Mom arc before I have to report back to work and do unfun things like. . . like work. To all the new readers, hello! To all the returning ones, hello to you too! Happy new year and stay warm for the rest of the winter, alright?

Also I'll start using her name at the beginning of next chapter. Pinky promise. She just kind of wrote herself that way - she didn't really want to say her name until just now!

* * *

germination: mom

* * *

She wasn't exactly sure how long she cried for. She just knew that her eyes were red, puffy, and sore from where she'd scrubbed them with her sweater sleeves more times than she could count. She loved her sweater, threadbare and patchy as it was. It was a blue-purple color, with two large, magenta-ish stripes circling around her waist. When she'd gotten it years ago, it had been a little tight, but somehow she'd managed to stretch it out. Her sweater was like an old, dear friend, or maybe even her second skin. It had been there through all of the good and bad with her. It was stretched out and a little oversized now, and how that was possible, she wasn't entirely certain.

Still. She loved it.

. . . and now it was her only reminder of home.

She was trapped in the Underground now.

Breathing in a shaky, if not slightly reassuring breath, she tried to calm down as best as she was able. The sunlight warmed her slightly, and a pleasant wind stole through the cave she was in, the yellow zinnias tickling over her feet.

 _Oh._

She'd forgotten all about that. She looked down, staring at her feet, which were clad in a pair of simple black stockings. Glancing around, and secretly glad to have a task to keep herself busy, she hopped over to the closest rock she could and sat down on it. Gently lifting up her feet, she investigated the bottoms and winced.

 _Nothing I haven't dealt with before,_ she reasoned to herself, _I'll patch it up with something I find along the way._

She always had been a very resourceful child, even she knew that. The bottoms of her stockings had large holes and tears in them, but thankfully most of the damage ended there. She had some stray rocks and gravel that had stuck in her skin, but with some careful prying, she managed to fish them all out. . . she didn't have any bandages or disinfectant, though. Letting out a heavy sigh, she slowly got to her (tender) feet and peered around.

"I can't stay here." She murmured to herself. "I have to get going."

 _Where?_ A part of her mind asked. _Where will you go?_

"Anywhere." She replied, "I won't get anything done by sitting around here."

The voice was quiet.

Mind made up, she nodded to herself and set off, taking it slow.

The large cave she'd fallen down in contained seven different yellow zinnia beds. They were all roughly the same size, she noticed, but there was a difference between two of them. The pair (one of them being hers) were larger than the others. Not by much, but just enough for her to notice it. And she didn't know why that struck her as odd, but it did. Like it was important to notice for some reason. Filing it away, she continued on, searching for a doorway or a passageway, and eventually she came across one. It was beautifully made, an arch cut into the rocks themselves, leading away into a dark place.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, fiddled with her fingers, and brushed her dirty brown hair out of her face.

Of course it was stupid to say, but. . . she was scared of the dark. Staying in the room with the yellow zinnias seemed like a much better choice. But she needed to keep moving forward. Taking another deep breath, she opened her eyes and took a tentative step. Another. And another. She hoped the breaths would calm her down, would make her feel brave, but it did nothing. She clutched her hands to her chest as they trembled, and she swallowed nervously as she entered the doorway.

The passage was dark, but dimly lit. She could make out weak light sources in the walls, but she had absolutely no idea what was making the light. She could see, though, which meant she could avoid stepping on things, which was nice. Her feet were aching, sore, and bruised. The passageway took a turn to the left, and through it, led to another room. She continued to follow it, feeling a little caught off guard. Small patches of grass and dirt filled the roughly circular-shaped room, along with another shaft of sunlight.

She hadn't seen anything. . . maybe she was alone down in the Underground?

With every step she took, every drip of water and gust of wind she heard and shivered through, she felt a little more alone. And a little more at ease. A few more hallways, and she was somewhat relaxed as she eventually came to a place that she could accurately say looked very old. The rocks seemed to be crumbling, with large cracks running up the walls and even through the floor. Some places hardly looked safe to step on. Pillars and shattered monuments littered the rooms she passed through, and as she continued, she frowned, eyes scanning over everything.

What had happened here? In some spots, she swore she saw gouges from something like claws (she rubbed herself an shivered, ignoring the chill racing down her spine), and in others, it looked as though things had purposefully been knocked over in a violent way. And everywhere she looked, there was a symbol. A strange glyph made of wings and triangles. Hm.

She walked up to an archway, looking at it more closely. The symbol was plastered everywhere, but what significance did it have? Was it to say she was here, in the Underground? Or did it stand for something else?

"Well, well," A voice rasped, "What do we have here?"

She whipped around with a gasp, eyes widening. She'd been so engrossed in looking at things she hadn't realized she'd been out in the open. She bit down a cry, expecting some giant, many-limbed, furred and fanged beast to jump out and attack, like the monsters in the books she'd read. But what she saw was no beast. They were two. . . monsters?

Were _these_ the fabled monsters? They hardly looked imposing at all. They were roughly hip-height to her, and it actually looked as though there was something _under_ a giant. . . black. . . _frog?_ At that, she stared, feeling confused.

There was only two, but one of them moved ( _hopped?_ ) closer to her, eyes glimmering in the dim light.

"A human?" It continued, "Just our luck. We're gonna make our King so proud."

She swallowed against a tightness in her throat. "What-"

The one int he back moved so quickly she hardly had time to see him move. She saw a flash of metal, and years of experience and instinct had her ducking out of the way. The monster landed with a sharp rasp of metallic claws on the ground, but she had no time to stare at him. The second one leaped for her, and this time she wasn't so lucky. She only just managed to avoid having him land on top of her, but she felt razor-sharp metal raking over her face.

She rolled and shot up to her feet, bolting into a sprint.

"You idiot! You _missed!_ "

"Shut up and go!" The other snarled.

She heard them laughing as they pursued her. Her heart hammered in her chest as she ran, feet hitting the ground, her wounds stinging. She swiped at her face, glancing down at the blood - the cuts stung, but they weren't deep. She had no idea where she was going, blindly sprinting into the decrepit ruins, she just knew that she had to run faster than the monsters behind her. Panic and fear began to clot inside of her, spreading like a virus.

 _The stories are true_ , her panicked brain thought, _all of them. Every one. All of the monsters, the Underground - it's all true!_

A weight collided with her back and sent her sprawling. She let out a sharp cry as she tumbled to a stop, skidding in the rocks and the dirt. Something slammed into her chest, knocking the wind out of her. She laid there and wheezed, but then four long, knife-tipped fingers wrapped around her throat and started to squeeze. Her lungs screamed at her, smoldering in her chest, demanding air.

"You almost let it get away." One rasped.

"But I didn't." The other said.

She started to writhe, but the monster had a firm grip. Tears welled, dripping out of the corners of her eyes, and her mouth gaped open and closed like a fish out of water.

 _I can't breathe._

She wrenched her eyes shut, her hands coming up to try to pry off the grip on her throat. The blades sliced into her hands, and she felt blood flowing from the cuts. In her rapidly-diminishing senses, she heard laughter, mocking and grating.

"Look. . . trying to. . . up."

The world began to fade into a dim nothingness. Her hands fell away, her arms feeling like weights.

 _This is it._ She thought, tears falling faster. _This is-_

She heard something, like a roar, and then the weight pinning her throat disappeared. She sucked in lungfuls of air, coughing and spluttering and sucking. Her throat felt like it was only allowing just the bare minimum to get by, and every breath she managed to take made her lungs _burn_. She heard the sounds of a fight, of claws and metal rasping on metal, and when it quieted down, she'd just barely managed to regain some of bearings.

She shoved herself onto her elbows, rolling partially onto her side.

There was another monster there, not much taller than the frog-ones that had attacked her. It was staring at her with its giant, singular eye. A chill raced down her spine as she saw the intent behind that eye: nothing short of murderous. Evil. It wanted her suffering and nothing more.

"No." It grated, its voice thicker and heavier than the frog-ones. "You. I take you."

It lifted its hand to its mouth, and she saw there was one of the frog-creatures there, clutched in its clawed hand. She laid there, frozen, her entire body recoiling as she saw what was unfolding in front of her. She felt like she should get up, lurch to her feet and demand that it stop, but her body wasn't moving. Nothing was moving. _Stop,_ she wanted to say. _Don't do it. Stop. Please!_

The monster brought the frog to its mouth, stretched its jaw wide, and with a savage bite, chomped through it with sharp, white fangs. She was sure she made a sound, a frightened and horrified squeak. She expected blood to slosh, to hear disgusting noises. . . but all she saw was the frog-monster shiver, go still. . . and then dissolve into dirt. The one-eyed monster began to advance, licking its mouth.

"Didn't say nothin' 'bout being whole." It murmured. "Didn't say nothin' 'bout bein' in one piece."

Fear gave her the strength to move. She struggled to flip onto her hands and knees and get to her feet, but the world spun in a dizzying array of colors and swirls. Her lungs screamed in protest and in a rather ungraceful sprawl, she collapsed back onto the floor, wheezing. Her head pounded as she craned her neck back, but she forced herself to look around. Anywhere. Anything that would - an alcove! Just twenty feet ahead of her, there was a crack in the wall. She just needed to make it there.

Goal in mind, she began to crawl, fingers and nails grabbing at the dirt as she forced her body to move.

"Where you goin', human?" The monster rasped. "Tryin' to run? No, no, won't work. Your scrawny arms aren't strong!"

It was getting closer.

But so was she.

She redoubled her efforts, her heart beating in her ribcage and adrenaline coursing through her veins. As she made it to the wall, wrapping one of her hands around the broken, jagged edges of the rock, a thin, bony hand wrapped around her ankle.

It laughed.

"You tried."

She tried to pull herself into the alcove, and to her surprise, she actually managed to slowly shove most of herself through, wedging her waist in through the crack. She heard the monster hiss and utter out what might have been a curse, and instead of continuing to try and pull her out, the grip slackened. She was confused, but only for a second.

Needle-sharp teeth bit into the fleshy, sensitive part of her waist, teeth digging in deep. Lava replaced her blood, and pain flooded through _everything_. It hurt. _It hurt!_ She screamed, unable to control herself, but she refused to let go. If she let go, she'd die. She knew that.

The monster bit down harder in retaliation.

The pain morphed to _agony._

And suddenly, it was gone. She heard the sound of something fleshy, like leather, stretching behind her. She dropped to the ground again, and after a few seconds of seeing stars, white, and darkness, she brokenly dragged herself inside of the alcove. It was a small, cramped space, but the rock walls pressing against her comforted her. Nothing could attack her except through the opening.

Silence pressed in around her, and as she stared at the opening, panting shallowly and expecting the one-eyed monster to reach in and try to yank her out. . . nothing happened. Moments turned into seconds, and seconds turned into. . . more nothing.

Alone in the dark, she deemed in safe (enough). And her pants turned into shuddering breaths, and the shuddering breaths turned into sobs. And in mere seconds, she was crying, wrapping herself up into a good a ball as she was able, trying to disappear into the black. She wanted to go to sleep. She wanted to disappear. She wanted to never wake up. She hurt. She was cold and hot at the same time. She cried into her hands, feeling lost, hopeless, and alone.

So. . . so alone.

She'd always been alone, though. This should be nothing new to her, right?

So why did it still hurt so much?

She cried. She cried, and she cried, and she cried until she felt like there was nothing left for her to cry. And finally, exhausted and fatigued, she felt her eyes slip shut.

. . . _how beautiful!_

 _With a happy smile, she grabbed the sweater and eagerly slipped it on, struggling to fit her arms through the sleeves and her head through the hole. Somewhere through the fabric, she heard a soft, feminine laugh, and hands grabbed at her._

 _"Let me help you." A soft voice said._

 _She stilled and waited. Mama's far more skillful hands deftly slipped it onto her, and she took a moment, bouncing on her heels as she stared at it. She grinned and she grabbed at mama, pulling her into a hug._

 _"Thank you, mama! Thank you!"_

 _"You look beautiful, baby."_

 _"Can I go out and play?" She asked, ecstatic and eager and happy all at the same time._

 _Mama nodded, and she didn't need to be given permission twice. She shot off like a rocket through her small house, bounding out through the back door and into the yard. She hit the ground, rolling over into a pile of leaves, warm and comfortable in her brand-new sweater. She crawled and shimmied through the pile, pretending she was a worm, and then a dog, and then exploded out of the top like a mole might._

 _Mama was watching from the front door. She waved and then crawled out, pausing when a flash of yellow caught her eye._

Mama would love a pretty flower, _she thought._

 _She got on her hands and knees, reaching for it-_

 _Hundreds more erupted from the ground, carpeting the yard and growing over most of the house. She blinked, staring at it for a moment before she grinned, clapping and laughing._

 _"Wow! It's so pretty! Mama, mama, look at all of the flowers! Aren't they pretty? Mama. . . ?"_

 _Mama wasn't smiling anymore._

 _She was crying, tears sliding down her perfect, beautiful face. Worry spread through her, and she took a few steps closer._

 _"I'm sorry about the leaves, mama. B-But the sweater's not dirty! I'm sorry. Don't be sad. I won't do it again. I promise."_

 _She wrapped her arms around mama's waist. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"_

 _Hands shoved her. She gasped, surprised, and then choked when her back landed on the yellow flowers, cushioning her fall._

 _"Why." Mama whispered, tone broken, tears still falling. "Why this. Why me. We were fine. Our family was fine. But this. . . Oh god, baby, do you love me? Do you love mama?"_

 _She blinked, feeling scared and nervous. She started crying, too. "M-Mama?"_

 _A soft hand came to stroke her face. Soft brown eyes stared at her. "Do you trust mama?"_

 _"Mama, you're scaring me. Please stop."_

 _The hand drifted to her throat._

 _Mama started to squeeze._

 _She clawed at her mama's hand, trying to free herself, but mama was bigger and stronger._

 _"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry. I love you. I love you. I'm sorry!"_

 _A glint of metal, flashing in the autumn sun._

 _A knife._

 _Mama was fast. She drew it back and over her head in the blink of an eye._

 _The knife came down._

She woke up, taking deep breaths.

The dream was nothing new. She'd been having it for years. But Papa didn't like it when she woke up flailing. . . she'd learned to not do it. Instead, she took a few moments to wake up. Rocks. Alcove. She hurt. The memories of the monsters chasing and pursuing her flooded back to her, but she was safe - she was still alive, after all. Groaning, she shoved herself up to her elbows, and blinked at what she saw.

Vines?

Yeah. Green vines. Everywhere. A few of the tendrils were right next to her face, too, leaves brushing gently over her cheeks. Like the tentative touches of fingers, almost. Through the crack of the opening, she saw the ground move, and a yellow zinnia erupted from the ground. It was much larger, though, and this one had a face.

"Howdy!" It said, mouth moving, "I'm Flowey. Flowey the flower. Nice to meet you!"

Fear made her heart seize, and she scrabbled back, pressing herself against the vines and the jagged rocks.

"Oh! No, no!" The zinnia continued, "I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise! I swear! You don't have to be scared!"

But she was. She was terrified. She had bite marks and a pair of sore lungs and one bruised throat to prove she should be scared. She said nothing, and the zinnia-monster stared at her, petals drooping and expression morphing into concern.

"Really." It pleaded. "I swear. I. . . I even protected you from the Loox and the Froggits! I heard your yells and came and saved you. You've been asleep for a few hours. I saw you were hurt, too, but I didn't want to help you until you were awake."

She stared, remaining silent.

The petals drooped even more.

"Really. Besides, if I were an evil monster, I would've just killed you while you were asleep, right? Erm. Wait. That came out wrong."

The fear began to abate. Gathering the shattered remains of her courage, she somehow pried herself away from the rocks and towards the flower, who looked up at her curiously. She drew closer, until there was just a foot or two separating them, and then she sat there and gazed down at him, taking him in.

The zinnia-monster said nothing as she stared. After a long moment, however, he spoke again.

"It's scary down here, I know. I've been alone for a long time. But uhm. If you want. . . we can be friends?"

There was no evil intent in those black eyes. He was telling the truth.

After a long moment of debating, of hesitating, of remembering pain, she reached forward, extending a finger out to one of his leaves.

"I'd like. . . I'd like a friend very much." She said, "I'm scared."

The leaf wrapped around her finger, and they shook hands in the strangest way she ever could have imagined.

"I know. But don't worry. I'm a great friend. So. My name's Flowey. What's yours?"

Flowey. . . he seemed nice. And he had saved her from the monsters. And he was her favorite kind of flower.

She smiled, just a little.

"Frisk." She replied. "My name is Frisk."

"Well, Frisk, nice to meetcha! Welcome to the Underground."


	3. germination: mom II

**monocarpy**

 **Rating:** T+ (I'll try to keep it toned down).

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own about. . . 99.99% of this.

 **Summary** : The Seventh Child has fallen. With her soul, the barrier can be broken, and all of monsterkind can wage the Great War to kill humans once and for all. The humans, who have taken everything from monsters, will be judged and punished for their crimes.

It's not long now.

You should be smiling, too. Aren't you excited? Aren't you happy?

You're going to be free.

. . . Why do you falter? It's only a human.

You. . . feel pity?

Nonsense.

To flower and to die, that is her destiny.

 **Warnings:** Angst, blood, death, cursing. . . all that good stuff will come later.

It's tame for now, but it won't be later.

 **Author's Notes:** I'm back with another chapter, hello hello.

I tried to make up for it with quality and quantity. I know it's a bit of a long one but I figured that would excuse my absence. Shit got crazy for me in the middle there, and I'm still trying to finish up that beast of a fanfiction. . . soon. Very soon. Then I'll only have two and that'll be easier to crank out, in my opinion. Regardless, I had a ton of fun writing this one.

Primarily because I don't think I've ever sat down and really slipped into Frisk's head on how she feels about the whole situation, and this chapter gave me plenty of time to do that. It was a lot of fun exploring.

Here's where I start deviating from the normal Underfell / Flowerfell norms and inject my own little twist onto it.

Anyway, here you are!

The next installment will be up within a day / a few days / a week. This chapter just got a bit longer than I wanted and I wanted to break it up a little.

* * *

germination: mom II

* * *

Frisk felt ashamed that she was suspicious of him. She really did.

But when Flowey invited her to come out of the alcove she'd taken refuge in, she hesitated. For a brief second she imagined him as a monster playing some sadistic game with her. He was inviting her to crawl out and taste freedom before his vines wrapped around her neck and dragged her back and strangled her. . . or killed her in some other violent way. She didn't know what, but her imagination ran wild and she hated it. He was looking at her with such kind and earnest eyes, she wanted to believe him. She wanted to trust him.

But she was hurt. She was bleeding, bruised, and sore.

"I'm not going to kill you." Flowey said, his soft voice shocking her from her thoughts. She looked up at him, wondering if he'd read her mind, and paused when she realized he looked. . . pained. Like her hesitation had hurt him.

"I don't blame you for what you're thinking." He continued, his petals drooping again. His eyes dropped to the floor and glimmered in the low light. "I can only understand what you've been through. How much it hurt you. . . I'm so sorry. You have every right to be suspicious of monsters - including me."

Frisk didn't like the pain on his face. The pain that _she'd_ caused. He had only helped her, after all. He'd saved her from the other monsters that had tried to kill her. And how was she repaying that kindness? By showing him so little trust and compassion. . . she had every right to be ashamed of herself.

Gingerly easing herself forward, Frisk scooted out of the back of the alcove and closer to Flowey. He perked up, looking at her curiously. Frisk held one hand to the wound on her ribs. The blood had stopped but it was still tender and sore and she could somehow feel the phantom sensation of teeth comping down into her waist. All of this was disconcerting to her. . . but it didn't matter. She had to start looking forward and thinking with her head. She took a deep breath and seated herself right in front of Flowey.

With a small, tender smile, she reached out until she brushed her fingertips over his petals. He was a beautiful zinnia flower, his colors more bright than anything she'd ever seen.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." Frisk said, stroking his petals with soft, tender touches. "Really. I was just scared. Will you forgive me?"

Flowey looked as though she'd slapped him.

Frisk startled, jerking her hands away.

"A-Ah! Flowey, I'm so sorry - did I hurt you? I didn't mean to! Please-"

"You're. . . You're asking _me_ for forgiveness?" He asked, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open.

"Uhm. . ." Frisk didn't know what to say. She was new to reading a flower's expression, and she couldn't really understand what Flowey was thinking. She didn't know if he was angry or upset, despite how human his face looked.

For a second, she swore she saw a gleam of tears in his eyes. But then he shook his head and smiled. "This is absolutely unbelievable. A human, asking me for forgiveness. . . and you didn't hurt me, I'm sorry, I was just shocked. Normally when people try to grab my petals, they're trying to kill me. But Frisk, you're hurt. Here, let me help you."

The rubble next to her knee moved, and moss sprouted out of the ground. Flowey leaned over and with his mouth, tore up a hunk of it and pressed it into her hand.

"Put this on the bite. It will help you feel better, even numb it up a little. That way you won't be in pain anymore."

She lifted up her shirt a little tenderly and tried not to think about the size of the bite wound. The moss Flowey had given her didn't even seem like it would be enough. Should she rip it up into pieces? And how was it going to stay on her? She was about to ask Flowey, but then she remembered he was a monster, she was in the Underground, and things probably worked a lot different here. And she'd already shown him enough distrust already. So she held the moss to her skin, waiting to see what would happen - and she stared in surprise when the moss spread, attaching itself to her skin and covering up the wound of its own accord. She ran her hands over the soft, springy moss - it looked strange, sure, but she could hardly even feel it on her skin. And true to his word, Frisk felt no pain.

"How does it feel, Frisk?" Flowey asked. "Does it hurt anymore?"

"No." Frisk said, dropping her shirt. "Thank you so much. I can move without it hurting."

Flowey beamed. "Think of it like a giant bandage. It'll fall off when it's all done. And don't worry too much, it's not in your veins or anything. My moss is really good at sticking to wounds like that."

Frisk smiled in return, a small ball of warmth lighting up in her chest. She felt better talking with Flowey. Like her situation wasn't so hopeless. Like he was a friend. A true friend.

"Thank you, Flowey. Now. . . I think I should leave. It's a bit cramped in here."

Flowey moved out of her way, allowing her access outside. The vines in the alcove sank back into the ground, and idly, she wondered how big Flowey was. Was the flower just a small part of him? Regardless, she didn't have time to dwell on that, and she didn't think she was going to ask him anytime soon. It would be rude, after all, and Frisk was not rude.

She slipped out of the alcove, the dirty ruins spreading around her a second time. There were no monsters in sight, save for Flowey.

"I can take you to the next area, if you like. There's a door that leads out of the Ruins. There's a way to reach the surface at the castle. You can't climb back up the hole, sadly. . . I've tried."

Frisk suspected as much - that would be too easy. She dusted herself off and nodded. "Then let's go."

Flowey blinked at her. "Just like that? No fight? No questions?"

"I believe you." She replied. "And I know you wouldn't lie to me."

Flowey blinked at her again, dumbfounded a second time. He heaved a sigh, and looked up at her in exasperation. "You're an idiot, but. . . I like that about you. Far too trusting. Just follow me, okay? There's traps down here and I don't think you'd like meeting them."

Flowey began to move over the rocky terrain, rather like a mole might. He made a little bump under the dirt, and in the back of her mind, Frisk wondered if his body _was_ a mole. But then she fell into step beside him, taking in the strange rocks around her. It was still hard to believe the Underground was real. That she was _there_. And there were monsters that did not like humans. But there were also friendly monsters who _did_ like humans, like Flowey. And he was taking her to a place out of the Underground.

"What happened here?" Frisk asked, looking at the ruins. "You called this the Ruins?"

"Yeah." Flowey said, sounding slightly out of breath. They turned a corner and continued along a corridor.

"The Ruins are just a part of the Underground. Beyond here, there's Snowdin. We monsters used to live here, but we moved farther into the Underground after some things happened. It fell into disrepair, so we just call it the Ruins."

"Aptly named, then."

"I think so too. Frisk, don't put your foot down there, that's a spike pad."

Frisk moved to the side, hesitating as she looked at Flowey and he nodded his head and gave her the all-clear. They continued on their way again.

"Why are there traps here?"

"Our king was afraid that humans would try to attack us and finish us off. So we riddled the Underground with booby traps. The Ruins has more of them since humans would come here first. There's not as many further into the Underground - careful Frisk, that's a net that'll break if you step through it."

Again, she skirted to the side. Flowey paused, stilling in his movements, breathing heavily.

"Flowey, are you okay? Making the moss didn't drain you, did it?" Frisk asked, concerned.

The flower nodded. "A little, but it's just. . . moving through these rocks is hard. I'm used to being under them. My vines have to be careful not to set off any traps and this dirt is thicker than the rest of the Underground."

Frisk paused, looking around. She wanted to offer to carry Flowey, but there was nothing she could hold him in. She didn't know what else to do, given their current circumstances. But there was something else she could do. . .

"Flowey." Frisk said, looking down at the flower and offering a hand, "If you want, I can carry you. And that way you don't have to work so hard."

Flowey jerked up in surprise. "W-What? No, I can't-"

Frisk shook her head. "It's the least I can do to start repaying you. Don't worry about it."

Flowey was quiet for a second, as though he was turning over the option sin his mind. Finally, he grumbled, and looked down bashfully, leaves fidgeting.

"O-Okay. But don't say anything about my stem, alright? I'm self-conscious about it. And my roots."

"I won't." Frisk promised. "I think you're the most beautiful flower I've ever seen."

"F-Frisk, stop it! You're flustering me already, jeez!"

Flowey extricated himself from the ground by prying up his vines. A thin, green root wrapped around Frisk's hand, and she stood up as Flowey gently pulled himself from the ground. He wound himself up over her arm and parked his petals on her right shoulder. He was as thin as a flower was, so she guessed she was wrong about having a mole body. He kept a vine wrapped around her arm and shoulder in order to keep himself in place, and though Flowey didn't know it, it was reassuring to Frisk. Like somebody was hugging her.

"Go straight." Flowey said, "And we've got to be careful. There are more monsters the closer we get to the door leading out of the Ruins."

"Okay."

Frisk continued walking, being mindful of the traps that Flowey pointed out. How awful this war between them must have been, Frisk reflected, that the king of all monsters had decided to put in such nasty traps to try and dissuade them. With Flowey guiding the way, Frisk made remarkably quick time weaving into the ruins. A few of the traps she'd had to set off on purpose in order to progress, but Flowey had them all memorized and was able to get her through them with ease. She was grateful Flowey was with her.

Things were starting to look up.

And that, Frisk realized, was an awful, critical mistake to have made.

She was turning a corner when a large, furry hand seized her arm. Frisk squeaked, and Flowey tried to yank her back, but the monster who had grabbed her was stronger.

"What's this?" She said, her voice hoarse and scratchy, "I was right. I was correct. I thought I heard the faint trill of a human laughing. I believed I smelled the sweet, innocent scent of a child."

Frisk was scared - too scared. The monster that had grabbed her dwarfed her, and looked like a hybrid between a woman and a goat. She wore some set of robes, threadbare and ripped in some places, bearing the same strange crest she'd seen on some of the rocks. Her face looked gaunt and hollow, her body in equal disrepair. Through her sweater, Frisk could feel her claws poking into her arms.

"Please stop." Frisk said, "You're hurting me-"

"Hurt?" The goat-woman asked. She paused, and then a light came on behind her eyes. She gasped. "I won't hurt you! No, no. I'll take mercy and pity on you. But _he_ will. I must get you to safety. Come with me, my child. Come. We mustn't dawdle. Your friend can come too, if that comforts you, child. But I will comfort you the most."

And before Frisk could protest, the goat-woman began to drag her along. Frisk swallowed, forced to walk beside the monster as a captive. Strangely enough, unlike the other monsters, Frisk didn't feel the same bloodthirsty, murderous intent from the goat-monster.

On her shoulder, Flowey trembled.

"Oh no. Oh, no, I was hoping we could avoid her. . ."

Flowey sounded terrified.

"That's Toriel." Flowey continued. "She's the Ruin's caretaker. . ."

"Come, come." Toriel said, pulling her along. "I'll keep you safe. I'll keep you protected."

There was no way for Frisk to pull herself out of her grasp - Toriel was too strong. She could only just barely keep pace with the monster as she was half-walked, half-dragged beside her. And for some reason, she couldn't dispel the growing dread building in her gut.

* * *

Toriel actually lived in a house. It was made of stone just like the rest of the Ruins, but not at all in the same state. Whereas the Ruins lived up to their namesake, this home looked immaculately cleaned and well-kept. There was a tree out front of it, a shaft of sunlight from above giving it ample light and warmth to grow. But its leaves, a dark red color, were falling from their branches and collecting onto the rocks below. Toriel (or maybe another monster, she didn't know) had raked them into orderly piles in front of the house.

Toriel had not released her arm, and was intent on dragging her into the house. Frisk didn't put up a fight - there was no point. Toriel was bigger and stronger and faster than her.

"You'll be safe." Toriel muttered, "With me, in my home. No harm. No hurt will come to you, child. Only my safety." She sounded as though she were talking through a fever, her words rushed and muttered. Frisk felt concern for Toriel - was the goat-woman hurt in some way? She didn't look well.

Flowey was utterly silent on her shoulder, and he seemed to be trying to bury himself inside of the fabric of her sweater. Frisk tried to reach up to pet his petals in a comforting way, but it was hard with Toriel still holding her arm in a vice-like grip.

"Safe." Toriel continued, "Safety with me."

As Toriel yanked her through the doorway, Frisk felt. . .

She felt strange.

Like something was _wrong_ with the world. For a second, her vision seemed to glitch and fuzz all over, like she was staring into a TV screen that had gotten bad reception. Her body felt constricted, an invisible pressure squeezing her heart and her chest, her lungs refusing to open - and then it was over. Frisk was stunned as she walked into the house.

 _What was that?_

 _That feeling. . ._

She frowned, and was about to ask Flowey if he'd felt it, but Toriel dragged her into the living room and plopped her down on a chair before she could open her mouth. There was a fire flickering in the fireplace, and a well-worn chair situated just a little ways away from it. The house was absolutely, utterly immaculate. Not a single thing was out of place. Toriel's hands drifted up to her shoulders, physically holding her there in place. A shiver crawled down Frisk's spine, and she swallowed nervously. Flowey had been pinned under Toriel's hand, and Frisk felt him trying to wriggle around, attempting to extricate himself.

"Would you like to draw or color, child? I know children love to draw and color." Toriel's hoarse voice whispered in the air above her. For some reason, it was more terrifying to Frisk than if she had screamed. There was something terribly, dreadfully wrong here.

Frisk's hands trembled. "U-Uhm. I'm very tired, I d-don't think I can draw right now."

Claws pricked into her shoulders as Toriel's hands gripped at harder.

"Is that so? Do not lie to me, my child. I know what children want, as I have raised many of them. And I know when children are lying. I can see what you want to do. You want to go into our room and wait for me to fall asleep so you may crawl out a window and run away from me, don't you?"

Frisk shook her head. "No! I was just-"

"Stop _lying!_ " Toriel shouted, her claws piercing through her sweater and digging into her skin. Blood was soon to follow and seep into the fabric, but Frisk hardly cared. Next to her head, Flowey was struggling, gasping as he tried to breathe.

"Please stop! You're hurting my friend!" Frisk pleaded, trying to escape to give Flowey air.

"Stop? _Stop?!_ Why do you say such things? Why are you trying to _run?_ I'm saving you! I'm keeping you _safe!_ "

Angered, Toriel shoved her. Frisk hit the ground, and very much accustomed to such rough treatment, scurried to her feet and started to run.

Toriel was faster, just like she'd guessed.

A hand latched onto her ankle and pulled.

She hadn't anticipated the edge of the table to meet her head.

Or for the world to spiral into darkness.

She heard Flowey shouting her name, though it sounded distant and faraway.

The last thing she heard was a sickening crack.

* * *

The world shifted.

And then Frisk was back on her feet again. She gasped as she came to violently, and she stumbled as her flailing threw off her balance.

The hand that had seized her wrist gripped her tighter and hauled her upright a second time.

"Careful, my child. Be very careful. It would not do to have you falling and hitting your head."

Frisk stared at her in horror. Toriel was looking down at her, that gaunt face stretched into a tight, thin smile. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she felt like her lungs had closed up and refused to open again. What. . . What was this? She very clearly remembered being here just a handful of seconds before. And Toriel had dragged her into the house, and she'd angered her somehow, and she'd left deep gashes in her shoulders-

But when Frisk looked at her shoulders, she found only Flowey cowering there, the fabric unblemished and not a single drop of blood in sight. What was _happening_? It wasn't a dream. It had been too real, too vivid. She swallowed against a thickness building in her throat. Had she. . . had she. . . that cracking noise. . .

"Safe." Toriel muttered to herself. "I'll be the one to keep you safe. Even from yourself."

Shock flooded through her.

That was exactly what Toriel had said just a minute ago.

The only difference was Frisk did not feel that strange, wet blanket smothering and pressuring her. Toriel merely dragged her into the house, and like she remembered, pulled her to the table. Everything was exactly the same. The chair was upright, and there was no blood on the floor, either. Again, the goat-monster plopped her down into the chair and placed her hands over Frisks's shoulders, pinning Flowey down.

"Would you like to draw or color, child? I know children love to draw and color." Toriel said behind her a second time.

She didn't want to color or draw.

And she could still remember and feel and hear the sensation of a bone snapping and her head connecting with the table when Toriel had grabbed her.

"I'm. . ."

What should she do?

what should she say?

Her mind raced to try and figure it out.

"I'm hungry." Frisk finally managed to blurt out. "Can I eat something?"

Toriel's claws did not pierce her shoulders. For a long moment, the monster did nothing, but finally, Toriel dropped her hands.

"Of course. Please wait and I will have something for you, my child. It would not do to let children go hungry."

And she walked off.

But Frisk did not jump out of the chair and make a mad dash for the door, though she very much wanted to. She sat at the table, and after a moment, reached up and stroked Flowey's trembling petals.

"Flowey, are you okay?" She asked, pitching her voice low enough that Toriel wouldn't be able to hear. Flowey slowly pried himself up off of her shoulder and looked at her, his eyes wide and tiny stem quivering.

"Y-Yeah. I think so. How about you?" He asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

Frisk wanted to say _yes_ , but she honestly didn't know. She remembered being here before. She remembered Toriel grabbing her ankle and her head hitting the table and a bone cracking. And everything was almost exactly the same as it had been. She needed to tell Flowey, she decided. There was no way she was crazy, that she was making up in her head. Toriel had even sat her at the table and asked her if she wanted to color again.

"I don't know." She answered honestly, "Flowey, something's wrong. I remember-"

"I'm afraid I did not have time to bake, my child." Toriel spoke up, emerging from the kitchen, "But I had some leftovers. I hope you don't mind pie."

Toriel set a slice of large pie down in front of her. It smelled like cinnamon and apples, though Frisk couldn't really be sure. Toriel stood there, waiting for her to pick up the fork, that too-tight, too-thin smile still on her face. She wasn't going to leave until Frisk had eaten, she believed, and if the coloring incident was anything to go by. . . Frisk wouldn't deny that her hands were shaking when she picked up the fork and bit into it the pie. It tasted sweet - far too sweet, like the sugar-to-apple ratio was off. Frisk wasn't even sure if she'd tasted sugar like that before, either.

It almost made her want to gag. But she didn't know if that would insult Toriel any further, so she stomached it. Toriel beamed, her smile stretching wider when she took the first bite.

"Make sure to eat it all, my child."

She stood there, watching carefully as Frisk ate bite after bite. Halfway through the pie, though, Frisk felt her stomach churning, both with dread and nervousness - she didn't have it in her to eat anymore. Toriel, however, seemed to be very pleased with her progress. She left her after Frisk was done with 3/4 the pie, walking back into the kitchen and humming as she did so.

Frisk felt uneasy.

"Frisk, let's go." Flowey said, tugging at her sweater collar. "Please."

Frisk nodded. She didn't like how this was playing out.

Soundlessly slipping to her feet, Frisk started to walk, following Flowey's directions when the churning in her stomach began to grow. Within moments it was cramping violently, squeezing and contracting, the churning turning into an awful pain. Frisk collapsed to her hands and knees, wrapping her arms around her stomach, the room spinning and sweat dripping off of her face. Flowey called her name in panic and fear, but Frisk couldn't respond. She dropped to the floor and vomited, her vision growing dark at the edges, her head spinning, pain and cold sapping her strength.

In the kitchen doorway, she spotted Toriel, silhouetted by the light.

"It's alright, my child." Toriel cooed, "It will only hurt for a moment. I promise. And then you and I will be together. Forever."

Flowey was still trying desperately to get her to her feet, but it was useless.

Frisk tasted blood.

She was scared.

She was acutely aware of when her heart stopped, and her last breath left her lungs. . .

And the world careening into black once more.

* * *

Lesson learned: don't run away or eat any pie Toriel made for her. Frisk waited patiently for Toriel to give her the supplies, and set to work almost immediately, drawing something mindless. For a time, Toriel watched her, so Frisk continued to work, adding more and more detail to the drawing, needing to waste time.

Eventually, satisfied that she was well and truly coloring, Toriel left her to her own devices and sat in the chair, closing her eyes and dozing by the fire.

"Flowey." Frisk murmured, surprised at how even and calm her voice sounded. "Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah." Flowey replied, his voice a little shaky, "I think so. Are you?"

Frisk could practically feel Toriel watching her. She knew better than to turn around, and she definitely knew better than to stop coloring. She continued, never stopping.

"I don't know." She answered honestly. "Things are strange. Toriel killed me."

" _What?_ " Flowey said in shock.

Frisk cut him a sharp look. "Shhh. Not _now_ , but _before_. I can't really describe what happened. I tried to run one time, and I hit my head on the table - I think I broke my neck. And then suddenly I was outside of the house again and. . . and it's like time is repeating itself. I don't understand. The second time she poisoned a piece of pie I was eating."

Flowey was quick to catch on. He used his vine to grab one of the color crayons and started sketching with Frisk, keeping the pretense up.

"You're human, right?" Flowey murmured, adding zinnias to her drawing, "Sometimes humans have. . . abilities. You're not the first one to come down here with something special. One human - no matter how many times monsters struck them - couldn't die."

Frisk almost stopped coloring. Her mind whirled, the thoughts and ideas creating a tempest inside of her head. One child couldn't die. She couldn't imagine how awful that must have been, to not be able to die.

"What about the others?" She whispered, unable to keep her voice from shaking.

Flowey shook his head. "I didn't know all of them. Just some. Another one was able to create shadows to fight for them. Every child was different. Maybe yours is to. . . I don't know, rewind time?"

She could. . .

 _Mama always said I was special._

But above ground she couldn't do any of that. She was just a normal girl. So why had falling into the Underground changed so much?

"Child," Toriel said, getting to her feet, "It's time to eat."

 _Oh no, not pie. . ._

"Ms. Toriel, I'm not very hungry. Can I eat later and keep coloring?"

Frisk knew she'd said the wrong thing again. Toriel's face darkened, and the smile disappeared. She walked up to Frisk, and quicker than she would have given the goat-monster credit for, seized her by the back of her neck and lifted Frisk up into the air as though she were a doll.

"No. You human children are all the same. You do not know what is best for you. Ever. _I_ will take care of you. I will guard and protect you - _even from yourself_."

Frisk was carried into the kitchen and plopped into another chair. Before she could escape, Toriel produced restraints and was quick to buckle Frisk in.

Frisk didn't remember all of what happened next, and maybe that was for the best. She remembered her sobs, and Toriel brandishing a knife as she cut large slices of food for her to eat - most of it pie. Toriel fed her, forcefully shoving spoonful after spoonful into her mouth. One slice of pie. Two. Three. The monster was enraged when Frisk confessed she couldn't eat anymore. Whether or not the food was poisoned, Frisk didn't know, and she didn't care.

Toriel's rage made her turn, acting as though she might slap Frisk for saying such a thing, but the monster had forgotten she had a knife in her hand.

Bleeding out was a new experience for Frisk. It was scary and cold and equally horrifying all at the same time.

But at least the sensation of the world going dark wasn't so jolting anymore.


	4. germination: mom III

**monocarpy**

 **Rating:** T+ (I'll try to keep it toned down).

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own about. . . 99.99% of this.

 **Summary** : The Seventh Child has fallen. With her soul, the barrier can be broken, and all of monsterkind can wage the Great War to kill humans once and for all. The humans, who have taken everything from monsters, will be judged and punished for their crimes.

It's not long now.

You should be smiling, too. Aren't you excited? Aren't you happy?

You're going to be free.

. . . Why do you falter? It's only a human.

You. . . feel pity?

Nonsense.

To flower and to die, that is her destiny.

 **Warnings:** Cookware and some nasty ways to die. Sorry Frisk, love you baby.

 **Author's Notes:** Sorry this took so long. I got preoccupied with my job. But I am back! I have to rotate to my other fanfictions and post a chapter there, but don't worry. It seems like next chapter we finally get to run into a certain skelly. c:

Nothing too much to say. I had fun writing this chapter, but I honestly didn't know how to end it. If I kept it much longer I probably wouldn't have published it so I just decided to say tally ho and post it.

Have a wonderful read!

I love Flowey. So much.

Best Friend Award!

* * *

germination: mom III

* * *

It took roughly seven more times to get safely situated in the bedroom.

And then another five to figure out how to get Toriel to leave her alone with Flowey.

Frisk smiled at Toriel as the monster closed and locked the door behind her, and when she heard the woman's footsteps fade away, Frisks's smile disappeared. She let out a deep, ragged sigh of relief.

Dying was awful.

She could clearly remember each and every single time, almost as though every death had been forever etched into her memories. Her body was aching and she was in pain all over, like she'd been beaten. But now she was alone, and for a little while, she could rest. The bedroom, like everything else in Toriel's house, was immaculate. Making a mess or placing things out of order was one of the many triggers to Toriel's anger and rages. It was difficult, trying to find out what would set off another one or Toriel's homicidal rampages and cause another. . . Frisk had nicknamed them "resets."

And sometimes it wasn't even her fault - sometimes Flowey accidentally said the wrong thing or did something Toriel didn't like. But Frisk was quick to inform Flowey to help avoid it when she reset.

"Frisk. . ." Flowey said, sitting at the foot of the bed, "Are you okay?"

Flowey liked to ask her that, too.

And her response was always the same:

"I don't know."

For every reset that been performed, Flowey only seemed to have spotty memories of them. Which was strange, because Toriel seemed to not remember any at all. Frisk had tasted this theory by doing something that had gotten her killed once, and the reaction had been the same. Toriel had been displeased, but all of her actions and words had been the same. So for some reason, only she and Flowey could remember. . . maybe it was another facet to her human powers? The ability to be the only one to remember?

She didn't know. What she _did_ know was that she was very tired.

She felt as though she'd been awake for days, the stress and fatigue from the resets finally starting to wear her down. With a tired groan, Frisk flopped onto her back and slid her elbow over her eyes.

"Hey, Frisk." Flowey said, "The rule in this land is kill or be killed. Why don't you use your reset powers and kill Toriel? The one human who could make shadows tried. He didn't win, but he was able to escape through the door and into Snowdin-"

"No." Frisk interrupted.

"But. . . but you only keep dying, over and over again. You're not getting anywhere. . . and Toriel's insane. Completely insane. Wouldn't it be better for her to die?"

"You're wrong, Flowey. I am getting somewhere - I made it into this room, didn't I? I know the exit to Snowdin is down the staircase, I just have to keep trying. I can't give up. It's not my place to decide who lives or dies."

There was a moment of silence between them, and Frisk closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths.

"What if you can't?" Flowey asked softly. "What will you do?"

"I'll keep trying." Frisk replied, sliding her elbow up onto her forehead so she could stare at the ceiling. "I'm never going to hurt anyone. _Ever_. I'll never do it. I won't kill. I refuse."

Memories flooded through her.

Papa.

Anger.

Mama.

Tears.

Frisk grit her teeth, refusing to let her emotions overwhelm her. It took her a little time, but she pushed back the memories and locked them away. Just remembering those things, though. . . it flooded her with conviction. She had to be strong. She just had to see this through.

"I'm going to keep trying, even if I die a million times. I'm telling you, Flowey, I won't give up. There has to be a way, I just need to try harder. I'll get us out of here, I promise. Trust me."

Flowey was quiet again. Frisk counted to ten in her head, taking steadying breath and battling against her own anger and heartache. Just the idea of hurting Toriel. . . it wounded Frisk. It cut her down to the deepest parts of her soul. She couldn't do it. No matter how many times Toriel murdered her, she just couldn't do it. If she raised her fist in anger or even just to defend herself. . .

Frisk shook her head. She curled up on her side and let out another soft sigh.

"I'm sorry." Flowey said quietly. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't." Frisk murmured. "I promise. I'm just really tired. I'm gonna sleep a while, okay?"

"Alright. I'll wake you up if anything happens."

Frisk closed her eyes, welcoming a different darkness.

She had a dream that she was Falling again, the colors and black blurring together. But they formed a more cohesive shape this time, and she heard a voice whispering to her.

 _Stay_ _determined_.

* * *

Getting to the door had not been easy.

It had taken Frisk thirty-seven, very painful, very excruciating tries.

She still wasn't there yet, either. She was running, sprinting as fast as she could, her lungs burning in her chest. Frisk had a feeling that this time probably wasn't going to end well for her, either. She had been trying to reason with Toriel, but judging by the crying, rage-filled yells and growls behind her, it had not gone well.

" _No! Get back here this instant, child!_ "

Flowey was wrapped tight around her arm, urging her to run faster. Toriel's shouts of anger sent chills down her spine, helping her to spur her on. But she was tired, and her fatigue was gaining. They were rapidly approaching a corner, the dripping, we t passageway turning to a sharp left. Frisk rounded the corner, and true to her feelings, her foot caught on a slick rock and she fell down in a messy heap. Just a heartbeat later, Toriel was there, claws roughly seizing her as she swiftly picked up Frisk and restrained her. The world spun in a dizzying swirl as Toriel manhandled her, but Frisk couldn't help but smile.

The door.

She'd gotten even closer to the door this time.

Next time, she'd get two steps closer. Maybe even three.

But this time. . . this time. . . she'd _seen_ it. The door leading into Snowdin did exist.

Maybe on the thirty-eighth reset, she'd managed to get to it.

As Toriel was carrying her away, she was ranting and raving about children and death and all sorts of things. She went on a very detailed tirade about how she'd never permit Frisk to leave, about how she'd keep her safe and sound. About how she wouldn't allow _him_ to kill her or have her. Frisk was brought out of her thoughts when she felt Flowey shiver against the crook of her neck. He'd wrapped himself around her throat in order to prevent being squished by Toriel's hands.

Toriel stomped back into the house and brought them both in the kitchen, not at all what Frisk had been expecting. None of her resets before had ended like this. Her good mood began to evaporate and dread replaced it. Toriel dumped Frisk onto the ground, and she caught herself on her hands and knees. She barely had time to register what was happening before Flowey was ripped off her neck. Frisk cried out in pain, Flowey's roots scraping against her skin and burning like a rope burn might.

"You will not _leave!_ " Toriel hissed. "Bad children will be disciplined!"

What was she talking about? Frisk scrambled to her feet, trying to reach Flowey and grab him back somehow, but Toriel was much quicker. Frisk froze when she produced a knife and she grasped Flowey's stem, holding it dangerously close to the zinnia's face.

"He's been whispering to you." She said, her chest heaving, "I've seen it. He asked you to run, didn't he? He's trying to keep you from me! Just like _him._ I won't let anybody take you! Not now - not ever!"

Frisk shook her head, sensing this encounter going in an awful directions. "N-No! Please, don't hurt him. This was all my idea! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" She spluttered, barely able to force teh words out.

"You don't mean that." Toriel seethed. "You're _lying!_ Just like all the others. Just like all my other children!"

Frisk felt tears burning in her eyes. She was scared. Completely and utterly scared.

"Please, no. I'm sorry. I won't do it again. It was my idea - I promise. I'm sorry. I swear I'm sorry!"

"All of my children have said the same thing. _I'm sorry. I won't leave. I love you_. You're not sorry - not truly! No child of _mine_ ever is!"

Frisk's mind churned. What could she do to save Flowey? Looking at Toriel, Frisk could barely decipher what emotions she saw.

 _Flowey's right_ , she thought absently, _she's insane. I can't even begin to guess what she's thinking._ Flowey was withering in Toriel's grasp, shivering and looking beside himself in fear. He hadn't even tried ot free himself.

"Please." Frisk begged, "Please. I'll do anything."

Toriel stopped.

Frisk saw her waver.

"Stay with me." The goat monster finally spoke. "Forever."

"Just don't hurt him. Flowey's my friend." Frisk pleaded, "And I'll do it. I promise."

Toriel smiled, her posture relaxing somewhat. Frisk breathed steadily to calm herself down , sensing the resolution at hand. The knife slowly lowered, and Toriel's grip on Flowey loosened a little, too.

"Good. From this day on, you will call me Mother, and you will be my child."

"O-Okay, Mom. Just please, put Flowey down."

Toriel smiled sadly.

"I'm afraid I can't, my child. He is a bad influence. And bad influences must be removed."

The knife flashed in the air.

Frisk froze when she saw him fall, his body splintering in two. The image seemed to burn into her head, searing itself into her heart. Flowey crumpled up, and then, as if by magic, disintegrated into dust. Frisk hardly registered when tears started crawling down her face. She just knew she was crying.

"Errant children must be disciplined. It pains me to see you cry so. You promised to stay with me forever. My child and I, forever as one. No corrupting influences will tarnish you again. . ."

Toriel grabbed her a second time, but Frisk didn't fight. She was limp as a doll, even with Toriel threw her onto the kitchen table. That opened her to start sobbing openly. The image of Flowey falling and breaking was ingrained in her mind. Why would Toriel do that? She'd promised. She'd even called her mother.

Pains napped her back to the present, and the sobs turned to screams as Frisk saw the knife flashing in the light. Her chest and stomach were awash with agony as Toriel set to work. And disgustingly, Frisk watched, the knife flashing in the light as Toriel cut. Sawed. Broke. The pain was so excruciating, Frisk was on the edge of passing out. But some perverse force kept her awake, even when blood flooded her mouth. She coughed, spitting it out, but it was useless. The more she did, the more the blood filled it back in. Her head lolled to the side, and she saw Toriel pausing in her work on Frisk to start. . .

Frisk felt sick.

She wasn't ashamed when she threw up.

Her mind began to detach from her body, both wracked in agony. Blood coated the table as Toriel set to work.

Frisk couldn't help but stare at her, her vision beginning to waver. The reset was coming - she was about to die.

When Toriel noticed her staring, Frisk realized that there was no hate there.

Toriel wasn't doing this out of hatred.

The goat monster was looking at her with the softest, tenderest expression of love.

"Together. Forever. I won't let him have you. Nobody will whisper lies into your ear. I'm a good mother." She murmured gently, taking a second to stroke Frisk's hair.

Frisk was glad when the reset happened.

She wasn't sure if she could handle being alive when Toriel started carrying her to the oven.

* * *

Frisk's eyes snapped open, and she stared at the ceiling of her bedroom.

She was alive again.

"Frisk. . . are you okay?"

Flowey.

Frisk sprang up, sitting down, but the movements aggravated the extensive injuries Toriel had given her. She hissed when she looked down, expecting to see her sweater cut up and bloody, but. . . there was nothing. She bent over, clutching at her stomach and chest, which had taken a brunt of the punishment. It radiated liquid agony, and Frisk thought for a moment she was going to be sick again. The only thing stopping her was another repeat of running into Toriel so soon after she'd just been killed. If she made a mess, Toriel would be sure to fly into another rage. . .

Her heart was pounding, and tears dripped over her cheeks as she grit her teeth to keep the screams locked up. Flowey, alarmed, snaked his way over to her, his roots patting her head and stroking her back.

Frisk felt as though Toriel had just stabbed her through with a knife again. Flowey was being so kind to her. The image of her friend dying flashed in her mind. It rewound. Replayed. Rewound. Replayed.

She'd failed him. In all their time together, not once had Flowey died. Frisk had always been the one Toriel had murdered.

Rewound. Replayed. Rewound. Replayed.

"Frisk." Flowey said, worry steeped in his voice, "Frisk, _please_. Tell me what's wrong. What happened? Did you have a nightmare?"

Frisk sobbed silently, biting her tongue to keep from openly sobbing. If she was back in the bedroom, that meant that Toriel was nearby, and she knew better than to make any noise, lest the goat monster come running. But her mind was screaming at her in horror.

Flowey had died.

 _Flowey had died._

And if was _all her fault_.

She cried, and she cried, and she _cried_. Flowey, without even knowing it, was the kindest and most pure friend she'd ever met. He waited for her to finish, patiently soothing her. His roots tenderly touching her in any reassuring way they could. Finally, Frisk managed to get herself under control what felt like hours later. Slowly, she released her balled-up posture and looked at Flowey, though it pained her to do so. What had she told him?

" _Trust me_."

He _had_ trusted her, and she'd gotten him killed.

"I'm so sorry, Flowey." She croaked. "I'm so, so sorry."

Flowey looked confused, but then his eyes dropped to the floor. ". . . is this about the last reset, isn't it? I. . . I don't remember much. The kitchen? And there was something shiny and silver. . ."

Frisk almost crumpled into tears again.

"I tried so hard. And I'm so sorry. It wasn't good enough. And you. . . and you. . ." She couldn't bring herself to say the word.

Flowey was quiet.

Frisk was quiet.

The silence in the room almost felt oppressive. Frisk closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. For Flowey to explode in rage and anger and tears and _hurt_ and to demand to know why she'd allowed him to be murdered. The seconds stretched into minutes, but Frisk waited like a prisoner awaiting their execution. She knew it was coming - it was only a question of when.

". . . Thank you." Flowey said.

Frisk startled, snapping her eyes to Flowey. She was fairly certain her mouth dropped open.

"W-What?" She croaked.

"Thank you." Flowey repeated. "I know it's hard. It's so very hard. . . but not once have you even lifted a hand to defend yourself. Even when I asked you to, or when Toriel did something so awful to you - and me. Can I ask. . . can I ask why?"

"Because I have to make it stop." She answered automatically. "Here or the surface, it's the same. Pain and anger just make more pain and anger. I want to believe that there's good in people, that their love and kindness is free. And I want to believe that if I don't raise my hand. . . they'll change."

Flowey finally looked at her. And Frisk was startled a second time to realize he was crying.

"You're so determined. But thank you, Frisk. . . for believing that Toriel, my mother, is still good. She's my _real_ mom."

Frisk paused, looking at Flowey.

". . . mother?" She echoed.

Flowey nodded his head. "She doesn't recognize me anymore. Or anybody. I've. . . I've changed a lot. Even if you told her I was her son, she wouldn't remember me. I know because I tried. I'd given up hope of trying to reach her, but you haven't. . ."

"Oh, Flowey." Frisk said softly, reaching out to brush a hand delicately over his petals in a soothing manner.

"Frisk," Flowey continued, "I have to tell you something. About the humans and the monsters. A long time ago, there was a war-"

Frisk shook her head. "I know about the war. And the barrier. It separates humans and monsters and it's what keeps you underground."

"You know about it?" Flowey asked, looking puzzled. "But nobody else did. . ."

Frisk nodded her head, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "A lot of us think it's just stories. But I had a nagging suspicion."

Flowey nodded. "The reason why my Mom is the way she is now," He continued, "Is because of what happened years ago. The first child that fell down here. . . she was my best friend. I found her, lost and alone and hurt and scared. The Underground was different back then - we were wary of humans, but we didn't want to kill them. My mom and dad adopted her, and she became my best friend _and_ my sister. But there was an accident. And she died. And something in my Mom broke. . . "

Flowey trailed off there, his eyes flickering in pain. Tears began to build in his eyes and course of his cheeks. He opened his mouth to keep talking, trying to tell more of the story. Frisk reached out and brushed away a tear, shaking her head and smiling at Flowey.

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me any more. It's hurting you so much. But thank you for sharing that with me, even though it was so painful for you. I can tell your friend meant a lot to you. And it gives me even more drive. I won't let you down again. I'll find a way to pass Toriel, no matter how long it takes me. One time or a thousand. I'll do it. I promise you. Can you trust me again?"

Flowey looked at her and smiled, brushing more of his tears away with his leaves. "You're too kind, Frisk. Far too kind. The kindest person I've ever known. I'm going to do my best to protect you down here, I promise you. . . what's what?" Flowey lifted a leaf and pointed it at her head.

Frisk blinked at him in confusion, and then reached up and patted at her hair. She didn't find anything by the crown of her head, but by her left ear there was. . .

. . . a flower?

Frisk was fascinated and a little scared as she probed it curiously with her fingers. She couldn't tell where it started or ended, and when she pulled on it, a sharp pain shot through her head. Frisk hissed, and stopped pulling. She looked around the room, trying to find a mirror, but Flowey located one first and dragged over a small hand mirror. Frisk accepted it with a small thank you, and tilted it up. A bright, somewhat small, beautiful yellow flower had bloomed somewhere near her left ear. It seemed to be attached to her head, but she couldn't tell exactly _how_. It had no feeling, she couldn't really even tell it was there except if she pulled on it.

"What's this?" Frisk asked, frowning at the mirror.

Flowey shrugged. "I don't know. I've never seen that before. But I don't think you should pull on it. It might get worse if you do, and it looks like it hurts."

Frisk dropped her hand and slid the mirror back onto the nightstand next to the bed.

"I think you should get some rest, Frisk. Maybe it will go away in the morning." Flowey suggested.

Fatigue and exhaustion began to weigh her down, so Frisk nodded her head. She was still a little weirded out by the flower, but she opted not to say anything - primarily because it bore a strong resemblance to a yellow zinnia, and Flowey _was_ a yellow zinnia. How rude would that be to start panicking over a pretty little flower? She was sure it would go away. Laying back down, Frisk curled up, hugging the bed pillow. She was grateful when Flowey was kind enough to set up shop next to her.

A new resolve began to sprout inside of her.

Even though that day had been so painful and agonizing, Frisk fell asleep with a smile on her face.

* * *

"I'm determined." She said.

Toriel's fires burned her to a crisp.

The world went dark.

"I'm not going to give up." She said.

Toriel's claws rent her in two, and she fell to the ground in a pile of bloody ribbons.

Darkness consumed her.

"I'm going to destroy the barrier."

Toriel's knives carved into her skin.

She wasn't surprised when she reset.

"I'm going to unite our worlds."

Toriel's hands locked around her throat and choked the life out of her.

The blackness was a good friend to her. She knew it well by now.

No matter how many times she died, Frisk got back to her feet and kept _trying_. She wasn't going to give up. Her determination was a liquid coursing through her veins, giving her the ability to withstand the pain, Toriel's screams, the heat of the fires, the blood loss from the knives. She was going to do it. She'd promised Flowey. She was going to break the endless cycle of pain and hurt and hate and she was going to _change it_.

Every time she died, a new flower sprouted on her head. She was wreathed in a pretty yellow crown now, and they were starting to cover the tips of her ears.

Frisk didn't care.

When Toriel cried, yelled, and _screamed_ at her to stay, Frisk persisted.

After the hundredth or thousandth death, Frisk's determination finally won.

Toriel collapsed, heaving, tears crawling down her face. The goat monster was trembling like she'd just weathered a storm, though it was Frisk who bore burns and cuts all over her body. Frisk stood there, Flowey safely rooted under her sweater, though the poor zinnia had his own share of scrapes and burns too. Fearlessly, Frisk strode forward, though Flowey hissed a warning to be careful in her ear. And when she approached Toriel, she looked down at the goat monster. . .

And memories flooded through her.

Before Toriel could say anything, Frisk reached forward and wrapped Toriel in a hug, squeezing her.

She was surprised to find she was shaking, too.

"Mom." She whispered, her voice cracking, "Don't cry. Please. I promise you, I'm going to make this world better. Nobody will hurt. Everybody will be happy. I'm going to change it. And I'm so sorry I hurt you. I'm so sorry I can't stay with you. But I'll be back. One day. I promise. Can you wait for me?"

Frisk was crying, tears burning as they crawled down her face and splattered onto Toriel's ripped robes. In the corner of her eye, Frisk could see Toriel still clutching a knife, the metal blade glimmering in the low light. Flowey was pulling at her hair, begging her to run for the door, but Frisk stayed. She wasn't going to leave Toriel like that, run away from her as all the other children had done. Toriel lifted her hands, the knife aimed at her.

If she was going to kill Frisk, so be it.

Frisk smiled brokenly. "I love you so much, Mama."

The knife clattered on the floor, and Toriel's shaking hands gently, reverently, folded around Frisk. Almost as if the goat woman were afraid to touch her. Like she'd shatter in her arms.

Frisk refused to let go. She held Toriel for all she was worth, desperately wishing that Toriel could feel the love in her body.

After what seemed like an eternity, Toriel's hands fell away.

"Go." The monster said, her voice raspy and hoarse.

It pained Frisk to do so, but she reluctantly pried herself away from Toriel. And though it hurt her, she started to walk away. Flowey had wrapped himself around her neck, mouth gaping open.

"Frisk. . . what. . . ?"

Frisk shook her head, pressing her weight against the door.

"I meant it." She said, bodily leaning against the stone door to get it to move. She let the tears fall, not bothering to wipe them away, though she'd started to hiccup. "She's hurt, Flowey. She's in so much pain. Everything she did - it was to p-protect me. And I have to l-leave her."

The door took a second to move, but then the stone grated and it began to part. It was hard work, though, especially with piles of snow built up on the other side. Frisk didn't look back at Toriel, though she could hear the monster crying behind her. If she looked back, she'd lose her resolve. She had to keep pressing forward.

Frisk stepped through the door, and automatically it closed, the rocks grinding together until it shut with a final _thoom_.

Frisk stood there, the world spinning around her. She cried.

"I'm so sorry, Mama." She said. In her mind, she could see her, tears and pain and despair in her heart and on her face. "I'm so sorry. I love you. I'll come back one day. I promise."

Flowey said nothing.

He hugged her neck.

Frisk cried as the snow flurried around her. She didn't even bother wiping away the tears when the wind kissed her face and threatened to turn them into ice.


	5. growth: I

**monocarpy**

 **Rating:** T+ (I'll try to keep it toned down).

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own about. . . 99.99% of this.

 **Summary** : The Seventh Child has fallen. With her soul, the barrier can be broken, and all of monsterkind can wage the Great War to kill humans once and for all. The humans, who have taken everything from monsters, will be judged and punished for their crimes.

It's not long now.

You should be smiling, too. Aren't you excited? Aren't you happy?

You're going to be free.

. . . Why do you falter? It's only a human.

You. . . feel pity?

Nonsense.

To flower and to die, that is her destiny.

 **Warnings:** Some naughty language and a small amount of blood and gore.

 **Author's Notes:** Real life happened.

I know, I know. Bad author. But life is life and you know how it gets. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, though, and I hope you enjoy it. It's a happy medium. Not too long, not too short. And the next chapter I finally get into some characterization, so that'll be fun. :D

We finally meet the skelebros!

* * *

growth: I

* * *

It was hard to be determined when it was so cold.

But Frisk trudged along anyway, her threadbare sweater sporting a few new charred holes from her time running away from Toriel in the Ruins. It was thin, and did little to stop the icy wind that needled at her with its frozen fingers. Her hands and lips had turned blue long ago - she just tucked them under her arms and soldiered on. She wasn't really too concerned with herself - she was honestly more worried about Flowey.

He'd long since curled up inside of her sweater, shivering as he tried to preserve some measure of warmth in his tiny little body. He'd taken up on her hip a while back, murmuring that there were no traps, and she was safe to walk on the path.

Shifting, she rubbed at the small bulge on the side of her waist, where Flowey had taken up residence, trying to generate some heat for the flower.

"Hang in there, Flowey." She murmured, teeth clattering together, "I'll try to find us someplace warm soon."

Flowey murmured something inaudible under her sweater, and Frisk heaved a sigh as she looked at her surroundings.

It was. . . it was beautiful, she had to admit.

The Ruins had been silent, hushed, and well. . . ruined.

The forest, in contrast, was pristine, white, and disturbed only by her footsteps. Frisk loved the winter (despite the cold), because it was a time where the world was at peace. The snow smothered her home town in a heavy blanket of silence and stillness and sleep. She loved to walk around and stare at patches of snow on the ground and think, _soon, spring will come, and you will be alive again._

And her house would be _covered_ in a carpet of yellow zinnias. She'd always loved watching them drip from the roof and canvas her home, as though it were protecting it. The only time the pretty flowers withered and died was when it was wintertime. But now that she had a living one clutching at her hip, she could see why Flowey was having so much trouble.

A sharp stab pierced up her leg, and Frisk hissed, looking down at her right foot. They were still bare, and had long since gone numb from the snow, but Frisk didn't complain. If she found Snowdin, maybe one of the monsters in town would be kind enough to let her borrow a pair? Her stockings did little to protect her from the snow. Still, she pressed on, the snow crunching underfoot, the only sound in the quiet wood.

The trail lead onward, though, and Frisk followed it, pausing only when she came to a thick tree branch that had fallen on the trail. It was simple enough to hop over it and continue on her way, but she made sure to give Flowey another rub as she shivered-

 _CRACK._

The sound startled her so badly she uttered a small yelp as she whirled around. For a second, Frisk feared she'd heard a _gun_ or something. . . but no. No, it was the. . . tree branch?

How had it broken?

Flowey, roused by the noise, slithered up her sweater and poked his head over the collar of her neck, peeping out.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It just. . . it broke." Frisk said, pointing at the tree branch. "It scared me, that's all."

Flowey peered at the tree branch, examining it critically for a moment before he shivered. "I don't think it's anything. It's okay. Let's keep going - I don't think either of us can last that much longer out here."

Frisk nodded. "Probably just some ice breaking or something. . ." She mumbled, placing a hand over her heart to calm it.

She started on her way again, glad to be moving and getting some blood pumping. She was a little warmer if she kept going on her way. The trail led through a copse of trees, and as Frisk wove her way through it, she swore she heard _footsteps_. Small crunches in the snow that didn't align with her own. And out of the corner of her eye, she saw a dark shadow dart out of sight.

It took everything in Frisk to continue on her way, to remain calm and continue walking the trail.

"Flowey." She murmured, "I don't think we're alone."

"I don't think we are, either." Flowey whispered back to her. "Let's just hurry up. As soon as we see a bridge, Snowdin is just a few more steps away."

As Frisk emerged from the treeline, she saw the bridge and breathed out a small sound of relief. Alright. She just had to cross the iced-over wooden bridge and she'd be right at Snowdin. Overhanging the bridge was an archway of some kind. It was almost as though somebody had wanted to install a gate across it - perhaps the ice had stopped them? Frisk wasn't too sure. It was a tense walk as she made her way to it, but whoever was following her had seemed to have lost interest. She couldn't hear anything over her own footsteps.

She stopped at the edge of the bridge, looking at the wooden planks. She was a bit wary of crossing over them - one bad step and she'd be falling into a pit she couldn't see the bottom of.

But then she heard it.

 _Crunch._

 _Crunch._

She swallowed as the footsteps drew nearer, and a small part of her, irrational and scared, worried that it was Toriel.

 _Crunch._

 _Crunch._

Silence.

They'd stopped right behind her.

"Human." A deep, gravelly voice said behind her, "Don't you know how to greet a new pal?"

That wasn't Toriel. Was it. . . another monster?

"Turn around." He ordered. "And shake my hand."

Frisk obeyed almost instantly, shivering as she turned.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting to see.

But a skeleton was most certainly not it.

He - Frisk was sure the skeleton was a he - was a little taller than she was, and. . . chubby? It was strange to see a skeleton wearing clothes, but he was. And what a strange outfit he'd picked. He wore a pair of high-top sneakers, streaked with red, black, and yellow. One of them was untied, the laces dragging in the snow, and other looked close to being just as undone as the first. He wore baggy, black basketball shorts, detailed with two thick yellow stripes running down the sides.

As her gaze traveled up, she saw he also had a comfortably thick, cozy-looking red turtleneck sweater on. And he looked positively warm in his thick, black, fur-lined coat, which seemed a little big on him. There was a crest on his sleeves, and with a start, Frisk realized she'd seen the insignia in the Ruins. . . but what did it mean? His winter coat was topped with a hood, lined with fluffy gray fur. His outfit was mostly black, but threaded through with bits of red and yellow.

Frisk's eyes finally flicked to hid head, where she took in his face. He had no skin, no hair, and his eye sockets were dark, save for the two bright red, glowing slashes of light inside. He smiled, and when he did, the ridges of his cheekbones moved, like her skin make, making the eye sockets crinkle. Well. . . she hoped he was smiling. It was hard to tell.

A vast majority of his face was covered by a strange mask of sorts. It was also black in color, but it - strangely enough - looked to be hand-made to resemble a skeleton's smile. . . except the teeth had been sharpened into fangs - perhaps to make him look scary?

"Well?" The skeleton said, jittering his arm.

 _Oh._

Frisk hadn't even known he'd stretched it out to her. In the light, Frisk could see three golden rings, topped with gemstones in different colors, each ring on a different finger. They all seemed to be different shapes, sizes, and designs, and the only thing in common they had was they each bore a stone. But all the stones were different colors.

But she'd been staring for far too long. She was being rude. Frisk reached out and slid her hand into his-

And the breath was driven out of her in a heartbeat. Pain seared through her arm and raced into each finger, zapping into her chest cavity where it jolted to a stop.

And so did her heart.

Frisk collapsed bonelessly a moment later, the world spinning around her, caustic laughter bouncing off the snow and into the frigid air. She felt queasy as her eyes closed, the smell of her own burning skin hanging in the air. . .

" _Wasn't that funny?"_ The monster snickered, laughter winding down. " _Stupid punk actually fell for it._ "

* * *

 _CRACK_.

". . . What was that?" Flowey asked in a hushed, quiet voice.

"Another monster." Frisk replied automatically.

She didn't bother to turn around and look at the broken branch.

"Who?"

"That's what I'm hoping to find out."

At that, Flowey paused. "Does this mean you reset?"

"Yes."

Flowey shivered, quiet for another second. "I just. . . I think I remember an awful smell and laughing-"

Frisk shook her head. "Please don't remind me."

Just thinking about it made her stomach roll.

She walked the trail, her feet burning in the chill. It was obvious now that the skeleton monster was just trying to scare her. Apparently, he liked to play deadly pranks. But at least she was wise enough not to take his hand this time. She made her way through the forest, carefully watching the shadow that followed behind her.

When she made it to the bridge, she stopped, rubbing her arms and eyeing the iced-over planks a second time. It seemed steady enough. She'd just have to make sure not to wander too far to the left, where the ice was the worst.

"Human." Came the skeleton's deep, gravelly voice behind her, "Don't you know how to greet a new pal?"

"Turn around." He demanded. "And shake my hand."

Frisk turned, noting everything was the same as the last time. His mask was still on, still covering his mouth.

She glanced down at his outstretched hand, and then back up to his eyes.

"My name is Frisk." She said, "It's nice to meet you."

He looked surprised, his eyes widening momentarily, but then he recovered and wiggled his fingers.

"What's the matter?" He asked, "Don't know how to shake hands?"

Thinking quickly, Frisk rubbed her arms, shoving them under her armpits. "I'm so sorry, but my hands are really cold. I don't want to chill you."

His eyes darkened, the red losing some of its brightness, his body tensing. For a second, Frisk worried that she'd made him angry. But then he burst into laughter, like she'd just said the most hilarious thing ever. He gave a sigh as he walked over, happily throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her into his side.

"That's a good one. Gotta remember that. Makin' a skelly like me cold. Oh, kiddo, you're just fulla jokes, aren't you?"

"I guess." Frisk replied.

The skeleton began to walk, taking Frisk along with him, over the bridge. She held her breath, worried he'd push her over the side.

'I'm Sans. Sans the skeleton," He introduced himself, "And I'm actually supposed to be on watch for humans right now. Supposed to catch ya or some shit. But walkin' around made me hungry. Good thing I got shit stashed in my post."

Directly across the bridge was what Frisk assumed was Sans's sentry post, and a few lumps of what used to be snowmen. He released Frisk as he approached and entered it, hopping up onto a stool.

"I'm looking for Snowdin," Frisk said, "Is it just down the trail or. . ."

"Yep. Dat way. Keep goin', can't miss it. Beat it and you won't freeze. If you 'scuse your new pal, kiddo, I gotta eat."

Sans pulled out a yellow container, and Frisk, not wanting to be rude, turned.

"Ah. Oh. Uhm. Okay. See you later, Sans."

Sans waved at her as she departed, trekking through the snow. Flowey peeped up over her collar.

". . . Frisk, is something up? You look. . . troubled."

"I reset." She answered, staring ahead, "He electrocuted me, and I reset. And now he's acting all friendly with me. . ."

Flowey let out a small _hmm_.

"Maybe he was caught off guard? Maybe he's not a good fighter? I'm not sure. I stayed out of the way as much as possible, Frisk. I only know some of the monsters here, not all of them. . ."

"That's okay, Flowey. Let's just go to Snowdin and get ourselves warm. I don't think I can handle the cold for that much longer."

"Me neither."

 _Thwack._

Frisk collapsed onto the ground, writhing and screaming in pain as she clutched at her leg. Sickeningly hot blood pulsed from the wound, quickly staining the white snow around her a deep scarlet.

"Frisk! _Fri-_ "

Flowey's voice tapered off in a choked wheeze as a hand seized him, yanking him from her so hard that Flowey's roots burned as they scraped over her skin.

"Stop your _pathetic whining!_ " A caustic voice snapped at her. "You humans as so lowly and pathetic. Better monsters have survived _worse!_ "

Frisk gasped as she laid there, prying her eyes open and spotting a. . . bone? She paled as she stared at it.

A sharp, broken bone was sticking through her leg. And for a moment, she was worried it was hers. What had happened that one of her bones had broken _straight up_ out of her leg?

The new monster walked over, gloved hands and armor plating reaching down and snapping the end sticking through the snow.

No pain accompanied the motion. So the bone wasn't hers, then.

"How infuriating! Sans is on guard duty and you _walked right past him._ What was he expecting - that _I'd_ pick up his workload?! The lazy sack of bones _knew_ I'd be making my patrol out here at this time!"

 _Sans_ , some part of her mind whispered to her, _had had a backup plan._

One long, strong arm wrapped around her, hefting her up and pressing her against his side. Frisk whimpered as the movements jostled her leg, eliciting a fresh bolt of pain.

Flowey wheezed, his voice pitched all wrong. Was he strangling him?

"P-Please," Frisk said, her tongue thick in her mouth, "D-Don't squ. . . eeze h-him."

The monster shook her, making Frisk's jaw clack shut.

"Stop your _begging_ before I rip out your vocal chords." Her captor replied. "You've already given me a headache. And it's about to get worse!"

The new monster was tall, she realized idly. Very tall. Frisk dangled like a rag doll in his grip as he walked back the way she'd come, towards Sans. She wanted to ask him to please let Flowey go again, but Flowey was still making sounds - that meant he was alive. She'd learned her lesson well while living with Toriel. The monster might just squeeze him out of spite, which was the last thing Frisk wanted. Frisk could reset. Flowey. . . he couldn't.

And even though she'd come to right outside of the Ruin doors, it wasn't a chance she was willing to take. Any move could be permanent.

" _SANS!_ " The irate voice boomed, " _Explain yourself!_ "

"Wow, wow, bro. Chillax. Don't need to go poppin' a blood vessel-"

" _Boss_ , you slimy imbecile. And enough with your poor jokes. Explain how I found this _human_ walking _directly past your sentry post?!_ "

"Oh. That. Heh. Well, br-. . . boss, uh. . . they overpowered me."

The angry voice snarled. "Have I trained you for _nothing?_ A _human_ overpowered you? I cannot believe you. . ."

They bickered back and forth, back and forth. Eventually, the words stopped being words and became a low drone in the background. Frisk was in too much pain to move, and as she looked down, she saw the morbid beauty of the snow blooming into bright red patches. As the monsters argued, the stain became bigger and bigger. Could blood freeze into puddles? Or how about blood ice? She didn't know. But it didn't take long for her head to start spinning, or for chills to settle into her skin.

"Ah, boss-"

" _DO NOT INTERRUPT ME WHILE I LECTURE YOU._ "

"I know, but really, boss-"

"Of all the _ungrateful_ piles of dust to call my own, you are the _worst_ Royal Guardsman I've ever seen!"

"Your brat's bleedin-"

 _THUD_.

"Only because _they overpowered you_. Such disgusting human quarry stood no chance against the Captain of the Royal Guard!"

Frisk drunkenly tilted up her head, the world spinning around her. A black and red blob was strewn out on the snow, rubbing tenderly at his face.

"Papyrus, really-"

" _Enough!_ "

Frisk saw no more.

She reset.

* * *

"Flowey." Frisk asked as she walked, rubbing at her arms, "What's the Royal Guard?"

Flowey shivered against her waist.

"It's u-uhm. . . the most e-elite soldiers the King has. We d-don't have many warriors but. . . t-the Royal Guard is the b-best."

Ah.

Frisk strode over the trail again, mulling over what she'd seen.

"Do you know who's in the Royal Guard?"

"K-Kinda. It's hard to r-remember. Apparently this. . . _Sans_ is."

Sans and his. . . brother? Yes, his brother. What was his name. . . Papyrus!

Sans and his brother Papyrus were members. And apparently, Papyrus could summon bones from the ground. Sharp, broken bones that could impale her. It had jutted up out of the snow with no warning. In the future, how could she dodge something that she couldn't see? As Frisk neared Sans's sentry point, she chewed at her lip.

She was going to have to be careful. Just like Toriel, it was probably going to be a few resets before she actually managed to figure it all out.

She hardly noticed when the branch snapped. Or when Sans followed her through the forest. And just like the previous times, Sans approached her when she made it to the icy bridge. She didn't even bother looking down at his hand when he spoke to her - she just stared him in the eyes as he introduced himself.

And just like last time, he slung his arm around her shoulder and guided her to his sentry post, waving her down the road.

But this time she was onto his ploy. Frisk gave him a wave as she continued on her way, though she was quick to dive into the underbrush, forcing herself into a tight, cramped bush. It was uncomfortable, and Frisk uttered a short apology when poor Flowey got pricked by a sharp twig.

"Frisk!" Flowey said, slithering to her wrist, "What was that for?"

"Shhh." Frisk whispered. "He's coming."

And seconds later, Papyrus appeared.

The only thing that appeared to be shared between them was the fact that they were skeletons. Where Sans was short, Papyrus was very tall. And Sans had a rather. . . unkempt appearance, but Papyrus practically glimmered in the light. He wore thick black boots, threaded with pristine red straps, and a pair of black pants were tucked neatly into them. A belt kept his pants around his bony hips, the buckle made with what looked like solid gold and bearing the same crest she'd seen on Sans and in the Ruins.

What did it mean?

Papyrus also wore armor. . . old-style armor. Like he was a knight of some kind. He had it covering his shoulders, his chest - he even had some on his arms and his legs. Every bit of was buffed and polished to a pristine shine, shoulder pauldrons flaring out proudly. A tattered red scarf-cloak thing dangled over his neck, flapping in the wind as he walked.

He grumbled to himself, his red eyes glaring in anger as he headed to the sentry post.

Frisk waited until he'd passed before she even thought about moving. And only then did she deem it safe when she heard Papyrus yelling at Sans. Again, she heard the tell-tale _thud_ of Sans being struck, and she felt guilty for leaving him there. Surely, there was some way she could help-

A root wrapped around her wrist, tugging on it. "Frisk, no! C'mon, you can't help him. We need to get out of this cold!"

It didn't sit right with her, but she couldn't think of any way to help Sans. Chewing on her lip, she continued down the trail Papyrus had come from. It only took a few more minutes of walking before she came across a wooden sign that read: SNOWDIN. It was covered in snow, and had a crack running down one side of it, but it looked cheery enough. Almost quaint. There was even the monster equivalent of Christmas lights on it.

"A-Alright, Flowey." Frisk said, shivering so hard her jaws were clacking together, "Where can I go?"

"There's an inn right there - see it? Just walk in. Let's ask the owner for a room."

"But won't they know I'm a human?" Frisk asked, hesitating.

In response, Flowey crawled out from under her sweater and joined the yellow flowers crowning her head. He stood up straight, and immediately took to trembling. He looked like he was having a seizure, he was shaking that hard. He wouldn't last too much longer in this cold. Frisk needed to hurry.

"N-Now you l-look like you h-have two h-heads." Flowey stuttered. "See? E-Easy. No h-humans here."

It was a good idea, and the only one they had. Frisk shoved open the door and stepped inside, sighing in bliss when blessed _heat_ washed over her. It didn't take long for the painful sensation of her nerves thawing to make her suck in a hissed breath, but she did her best to ignore it.

"Well hello there, traveller." A woman spoke up. "Got rooms for rent if that's what you're looking for."

A room sounded amazing.

"Y-Yes p-please." Frisk chattered, pressing her hands into her sweater in an attempt to dull the pain.

"It'll be twenty gold."

Gold?

She didn't. . .

"I d-don't have gold." Frisk replied, her heart heavy.

"Then you don't have a room." The innkeeper replied, her bunny-like ears twitching. She arched an eyebrow, staring down at them. "You don't look like no monster I've seen around these parts. . ."

"I'm the only two-headed monster around!" Flowey replied quickly, "But you want gold? Fine. We'll go out and g-get some gold!"

"You better. Now get out of my parlor." The bunny dismissed, waving a hand at them.

Frisk trudged back to the door, opening it. The heat was to her back, and the cold brushed against her front, making her warming toes and fingers scream _no no NO!_

"Hurry up and close the door!" The bunny snapped, "You're letting the heat out!"

Frisk stepped back outside, closing the door behind her. She resumed her trek, breathing into her hands and rubbing them.

"Are you okay, Flowey?"

Flowey shivered above her and said nothing. She had to find some place for them, and fast. Snowdin, thankfully, wasn't a very large town. And its inhabitants were wise enough to cover themselves up in multiple layers of clothing. Frisk was unashamed to admit that her travels through the small town led her to look in a few trash cans for anything to wear (or even to eat), but she found nothing. The night began to wear on, and she wandered up and down Snowdin.

She did find a restaurant - something named Grillby's - but she knew without money, it would be silly to even enter. She continued on, each step becoming more labored than the last.

"F-Flowey?"

His petals had drooped onto her neck. He didn't reply.

Frisk continued on, the chill creeping up her legs and her fingers and making her sluggish and slow.

No matter how many times she breathed into her hands and tried to warm them up, they remained chilled. She blinked, her vision blurry and swimming, as she tried to find something, _anything. . ._

Finally, her legs gave out. Frisk laid there, struggling to open her eyes. Eventually, she managed it, but the feat took a great amount of effort to do. Much more than she had. She'd fallen down somewhere close to Snowdin's library. . . a libraby? Whatever it was named. She was lucky she hadn't fallen on the broken glass from the window above her. But. . . but at least she was warm now, right?

Yeah. Yeah, she was warm. The snow was like a big, fluffy comforter. . .

Each blink made her eyes open slower. She was so sleepy and tired. . . she should sleep. She should.

A shadow fell over her. She blinked up at it, trying to make sense of the black blur.

"S. . . sa. . . so. . . sorr. . ." She slurred, trying to speak.

Somewhere, somehow, she heard a sigh.

"Just die already."

So she did.

And as the darkness claimed her, Frisk felt a hand grazing her own, phantom fingertips brushing against her hand. She thought she saw a face in the shadows.

And for a moment, she swore the lips moved.

 _Stay determined_.


End file.
